


Missed

by ricky_goldsworth



Series: 500 words for 500 followers [1]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Hayley Kiyoko - Freeform, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 11:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14331948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricky_goldsworth/pseuds/ricky_goldsworth
Summary: Aren't you tired every day?'Cause I run through your brainHold me down, keep me safe





	Missed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rycnbergara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rycnbergara/gifts).



> If you got here by googling yourself, hit the back button now! If you got here some other way, I have a tumblr at [ricky-goldsworth](https://ricky-goldsworth.tumblr.com/post/172976118064/can-i-get-some-fuckin-uhhhhh-shyan-based-on-the).

Sunset stains the Boulevard, charging everything with equal parts nostalgia and urgency. Shane’s stuck in traffic, restless energy running staccato through his fingers.

It takes Ryan one-and-a-half rings to pick up.

“What’s up, big guy?”

“You tired, Ry?”

There’s a pause. Shane knows Ryan is reaching for the punchline, but he can’t quite grasp it, so he relaxes into the bit, trusts Shane to take it somewhere worth going. “Why would I be?”

“You’ve been running through my mind all day, baby.”

Ryan’s wheezing laughter is muffled: he’s slapped the phone against his chest. He comes back a minute later: “You’re an asshole. What’d you call me for?”

“I’m stuck in traffic on Sunset Boulevard. Pretty fucking stupid, right?”

Ryan snorts. “Yeah. Why’d you take that way?”

“I don’t fucking know. I don’t want to go home yet. Wanna meet me somewhere?”

Ryan’s grin is audible, or maybe Shane’s just too familiar. “Sure.”

* * *

 The club is lit up with the inverse of the sunset, like Shane stopped the clock on tonight when he parked off Sunset and now he’s just making his way down the spectrum, killing time until reality crashes back into them. The bass is counting down in his ribcage.

He needs another drink.

Ryan’s skin is shining in technicolor: red, blue, purple by turns. His shirt glows under the blacklights, tinged with shadows where it sticks to his skin. He’s got a drink in his hand, raised up above his head as he dances, and Shane leans in to steal a sip from it, uses that as an excuse to slip his hand over Ryan’s hip and match his rhythm.

Ryan looks up at him and his smile is mocking, knowing. He pulls Shane closer. They press chest to chest in the crush.

He has to lean down so far to reach the shell of Ryan’s ear. “Bold, Bergara,” he whispers, and Ryan probably feels his words more than he hears them, but that’s okay, because he’s never needed to hear Shane to know what he’s saying.

Ryan smells like hair product, the same shit he runs through his hair every morning when they’re on location, someplace else where the clock stops and they can play-act at domesticity with no consequences. His shirt is riding up against Shane’s jeans, and Shane wants to skate his fingers along the lines of his hip bones like he does in the hotel beds they share, make him shiver and roll them forward.

Ryan drops his free hand to the small of Shane's back. “Missed this,” he tells him, but they’ve never danced together like this before.

“Missed you, too,” Shane says. From this angle he can see how Ryan's mouth pops opens in surprise.

It’s so easy to lean in and catch it with his mouth.

Ryan’s hand balls into a fist in the back of Shane’s shirt. They drop out of time with the music, slow and sliding against one another. Shane twines his arms around Ryan’s shoulders, presses their foreheads together when they break apart for air.

“Yeah,” Ryan breathes, and his pupils are blown, the music still pulsing through them, but Shane knows this is real, knows this is too close to home to ignore later, and he’s so relieved he could cry. “Yeah.”


End file.
